You Are Mine (2 page)

When I reach the waiting area, mother
is still in the corner, but the women surrounding her are different
than those who were waiting before. All have varying shapes of
tattoos above their collar bones. The center tattoo is bordered by
a second in a diverse array of lines, curves, and sometimes another
shape. The border indicates they're all married. The daughters must
be in testing rooms like the one I just left. Their eyes constantly
dart toward the men.

Father lazes, laughing with the men. I
position myself where Father can see me, but where I won't be in
the way. After a few moments he addresses me.

“
Finished then. Let's see
how soon some chap will ask for you.” He tosses his pipe on a
table. “Agatha, come.”

The crowd of women parts for my
mother, who waddles behind Father. I would rather be headed to
class, but wishing won't make it happen. When we're back to the
tester, a second chair has appeared across from him. The room seems
larger and somehow warmer. I don't know if it's really changed or
if it's easier to face with mother here.

Father's frame overflows the new seat,
and mother moves to stand behind him. After closing the door, I
take my place beside her. The air grows hot with the progressing
day and too many bodies in the tight room. I pull at my navy gown,
but it goes right back to sticking to my skin.

“
Good to see you,
Councilman.” The tester smiles, making his face appear kind instead
of foreboding, though more pruneish than ever. It's almost like
he's a different person.

“
And you,” Father says
anxiously. “What are the results?”

The warlock shows Father the parchment
with my blood on it. “Take a look for yourself. It's already lost
some of its potency, but she's brimming with magic. Good fine
stock. Should be able to secure you an exemplary son-in-law within
the month.”

Father studies the parchment for a
moment. “Marvelous. You've done some fine testing.”

“
Thank you, Councilman
Stephen. We've all been impressed with your own work. You're a
great benefit to our society. I'll make sure the paperwork gets in
right away. I suspect offers will be arriving soon.”

“
Any good candidates
inquiring lately?”

“
Matter of fact, the Grand
Chancellor's son was recently in. Picked a wench two days
ago.”

The Grand Chancellor's son? If he
hadn't picked a wife previously, would I have made it on his list?
I grip my hands together. It's doubtful I could handle hosting the
required balls and being watched and gossiped about by all the
other councilmen's wives. Having to endure my husband will be hard
enough without him being a powerful and influential warlock. More
than ever the thought makes me want to be back with my sisters.
Father leans forward, eager as the tester continues.

“
Lots of other good ones
are still looking. Jonathan, Councilman Michael’s son was by the
other day but hasn't found a wife yet. Neither have Frank or Walter
of Norpar.”

“
Excellent. Would you make
sure they are aware of Serena's submission?”

“
Of course. I'll pass it
on to those of esteem. I keep hoping Chancellor Jacob will come in
for a new wife. He needs to get over his dead one. So many admire
you council members. He's setting a bad example.”

Father rubs his chin. “Can you imagine
if she was the Chancellor's wife? That would bring good things for
me. Since that won't happen, the most powerful, influential warlock
in Chardonia who needs a wife would be fine. Preferably one that
can pay a lot.”

They both stand. “I'll take care of
it. Thank you for bringing her in.”

“
Just doing my duty. I'm
ready for some strapping grandsons.”

My insides hurt. I fold my arms across
my stomach as they head out, but it doesn't help with the pain. I
move to follow.

Mother touches my elbow. The touch
startles me to a stop and she lets go. “I remember when I was
chosen by your Father. It was a troublesome time, but you can do
it. You're strong and your sisters need your example.”

I close my eyes and shake my head
before opening them again. “I don't think I'm that type of
strong.”

Mother sighs. “Maybe not, but you
still have to go through it, society expects it. You'll have a new
owner soon.”

She's right. A warlock could ask to
buy me at any time. There's nothing I can do about it. I follow
mother from the room, bowing my head with the hope that it will
keep further attention from me. But it's too late to hope. I will
always be owned.

Chapter Two

I
t turns out the tester was wrong. Very wrong. It isn't even a
week before I'm purchased by a warlock. Some man I've never met now
owns me. According to Father, this man is wealthy and has had only
the best of classes focusing on helping him become a councilman.
Someone capable of filling Father's pockets and increasing his
popularity. A man whom I'm on my way to meet. Thomas. My new
Master. He summoned Father and I to keep him company during the
yearly tournament. For a full week I'll be with my owner and
soon-to-be husband.

My gut churns. I don't know if my
carriage sickness is extra severe today or if my nerves are making
it worse. The seat jostles beneath me like it has for most of the
day. I bump against Cynthia in the dark carriage. I'm grateful
Father let her come since mother isn't permitted to attend the
tournament in her state. I just wish Cynthia could keep her
excitement over our first tournament to a minimum until we're
there. If women were allowed windows in the carriage, at least the
scenery would distract me. But there's nothing but darkness,
bouncing, and sickness. I groan.

“
Sorry, I didn't mean to
make you feel worse.” She stops wiggling, at least for the moment,
and I only have to contend with the ruts of the road. She means
well, when she thinks about it. “I'm sure we'll be to Thomas's
soon, and you can get some fresh air.”

“
I hope so.”

“
Can I do anything to
help?”

I rest my head against the carriage
wall, but lift it when the swaying makes the nausea worse. “Talk to
me. Distract me.”

“
Certainly. I love your
two new gowns. They're stunning. The dark green one is my favorite.
You'll be smashing. I wish Father would let me get a new gown or
two. You're lucky he got some for you.”

I think they're all too fancy, but of
course she would want them. She has more dresses than she can wear
between wash days. I don't know what she would do with more, but
Father insisted I needed to look my best for Thomas to show off.
“You make your gowns look beautiful, Cynthia. No one will know they
aren't new.”

“
Apart from being out of
date. Still, I hope being at the tournament will give me a chance
with some warlock. I brought three handkerchiefs to give
away.”

I groan. “Three? Do you really need
more than one?”

“
Well, if I can't get in
the marriage pool for another year, I might as well spread myself
out and practice.”

“
Practice what? They don't
care about anything besides magic and money. We know you have a
good pedigree, it's not like you can change the magic in your
blood.”

She leans back and is quiet a moment
before answering. “If I get someone to care enough about me, they
may try to find me in the marriage pool. It's not unheard of for
men to gain a preference for a woman before her blood is tested,
you know. One of them could be better than Father.”

I wish this conversation was taking
place somewhere easier to think. Somewhere we weren't being churned
about. “If anyone can do it, I'm sure you can. But should
you?”

“
Men aren't all bad. Don't
you remember Lewis from our weekly manners lesson? He was always so
nice, making sure I was first in line to go home.”

If she really thinks that, it's
because she didn't see how he looked at her when she was turned
away. Or how he pinched the back of my arm while trying to steal a
kiss. It left a bruise for two weeks. Though I should have given
him what he wanted, I couldn't. Instead, I screamed and received a
day-long silence spell. Of all the hexes I've gotten, not being
able to talk was minor. And I wasn't forced to kiss his peeling
lips.

Dreaming of a nice warlock is a
dangerous thing. Yet, I can't take her hope away. Without hope,
there's nothing but misery. I know. I close my eyes. “Can we please
speak of something else?”

She returns to talking of dresses for
a while, then moves on to the sisters we left behind. Little Molly
learning to walk. Sally eager to begin classes. Bethany taking care
of them all. As she prattles on, it's hard to pay attention, but I
let her voice soothe me. No matter how hard I try not to think of
them, her earlier words about men being nice come back to me.
Despite what she thinks, men are rarely kind unless they're playing
some sort of cruel game. To them, women are owned and used, that's
all.

Finally, the carriage halts, and
Cynthia's chatter ceases. I continue to sway. The bouncing resumes
as Cynthia can't contain her excitement, again. I groan and try not
to lose my breakfast. Shouldn't have eaten that biscuit.

“
Sorry.” While she sounds
sincere, she continues twitching beside me.

Men's voices drift from outside, but I
can't make out what they're saying. As I think of what's to come,
the voices I hear and who I'm about to meet, my hands shake.
Several more minutes pass before the carriage door opens. I blink
against the light. Father pokes his head inside, shielding us from
some of it. One glimpse of me and he leans farther away. I must
look as ill as I feel.

“
Best behavior.
Particularly you, Serena.” His voice is a gruff whisper. “Remember
what's at stake.”

For him it's gaining the right
son-in-law. Nothing to do with the fact I'm about to meet my new
owner. Why does it even matter? It's not like I can be returned
like goods at a shop. I'm bought and paid for, no matter what.
Unless of course I'm found unvirtuous.

I stare at my gloved hands. I'm trying
to keep from being sick, but Father must take it as acceptance
because he leaves. Fresh air whirls in. I stay in place, letting my
stomach calm. Cynthia tames a few of my locks back with a pin from
her pocket.

“
You brought hair pins?” I
ask.

“
Bethany said you would
need them.”

Taking care of me is such a
Bethany-like thing to do, my trembling eases a little. Out of all
my thirteen sisters I'll miss her the most. Tears threaten, but I
push them away with a glance at Cynthia. We look nothing alike. Her
blonde curls are still forced into the tight knot at the back of
her head. Green eyes, big and full of life against the pale face
paint. Her reddened mouth purses as she fixes another of my stray
hairs.

In contrast, my dark hair never stays
in place, even though it's straight and not curly like hers. My
brown eyes always seem so dull, the few glimpses I've had of them.
But the face paint is the same. Of course we have to wear it and
follow the Woman's Canon. Mother wouldn't have it any other
way.

Cynthia nudges me. If only we were at
the house instead of here. Even classes filled with endless
dronings about the Woman's Canon and how we must live up to it
sound better than meeting the warlock who now owns me. I take one
last deep breath and exit the carriage. Despite the circumstances,
I try to muster as much grace as I can.

The house is bigger than Father's.
Three stories of gray stone, ivy creeping up one side. Bushes
cluster around the house reaching the bottom of the windows.
Servants line the stairs, at the bottom of which Father is talking
to a man who is perhaps five years older than me. Thomas? Taller
than me, but about half Father's weight. Golden eyes. No blemishes
on his face, though his nose has been broken at least
once.

Mine looked like that after I'd been
particularly outspoken. When I lived with it for a week, Father
fixed it. Said warlocks would reject me with a nose like that. I
wonder why this warlock didn't fix his with magic. It does make him
handsome, in a fierce sort of way.

I brush my hands across my dark, wool
dress, overly aware of my travel-worn state. Father can't truly
fault me for it, but he may nevertheless. Once Cynthia departs the
carriage, she slides next me. Together, we walk toward the
men.

Motioning at me, Father says, “Thomas,
this is your new property.”

Thomas bends over my extended hand to
kiss it. A tremor of dread starts where his lips touch my glove and
travels through me. Not letting go, he straightens. His eyes roam
over me. I force my smile to stay, though I'd prefer to glower. No
man has ever leered at me in such a way. A chill fans through me. I
want an extra wrap. Or three.

“
Enchanted. I don't mind
getting married, but I believe marriage to this one will make duty
a pleasure.”

Even through the shield of my glove,
his touch makes my insides balk. I yank my hand from his, as
politely as I can, and mask my features. Father scowls. Apparently,
not polite enough.